VirtualHeaven (3 page)

Reality and fantasy made it a wide chasm.

“I have no master,” she said into the expectant silence.

“So be it.” He rose and shoved a hand under his tunic. He
tossed something onto her lap. “Explain this.”

Maggie stared at the game gun. Her fingers crept across her
lap and poked the black lump of plastic. It lay there like a dead thing.

“I don’t know what you expect,” she said, stalling for time.
How did one explain a gun to a man whose only visible weapons were a knife and
sword? Then again, in many computer games, the heroes had strange weapons.
Maybe Kered had a few she didn’t know about, hidden somewhere she couldn’t see.

“Nilrem will read some omen in this. ‘Tis best you speak before
he returns.”

“All right. All right. It’s a weapon. Called a gun.” Maggie
slipped it into her hand and smoothed her fingers over the stock. A useless
piece of junk far from home. Or, if she truly was in this man’s world, a
potentially lethal hunk of plastic.

“‘Tis a mighty strange weapon, this…gun.” Before Maggie
could protest, Kered had plucked it from her hand. His large fist dwarfed the
stock as he wielded it like a bludgeon.

Maggie rose on her knees and grabbed his forearm. She could
do chin-ups on him if he could be persuaded to hold his arm out straight. There
was little chance she could persuade this man to do anything. She felt suddenly
puny and inconsequential. “I’m not sure how dangerous it is. Let me have it.”

“You speak as if I am some child you command.” Kered turned
and, with a gentle nudge, sent her flying flat onto her back.

“Of all the nerve.” She struggled off the bed, ignoring the
sudden hammer that rang in her head. “Didn’t your mother teach you any
manners?”

“My mother is dead.” He turned his back to her, pointed the
weapon, and studied the blue and red buttons. “How does it work? You may
explain, or I will experiment.”

“I think I’m going to faint,” Maggie whispered. It wasn’t a
complete lie. Not really. If this was a dream, he couldn’t hurt anything, could
he?

And if it was real, he might fry them both in a
heartbeat.

Nausea knotted her stomach and fear twisted her bowels, but
her words served their purpose. Kered dropped the gun to the table and swept
her into his arms. She felt as if she’d been gripped by a giant vise.

Then, with a gentleness that belied his size, Kered placed
her on the bed. He touched his hand to her cheek and then encircled her throat
with warm fingers. “Cool. Sweaty. You are suffering more from fear than
anything else. We will not hurt you.”

“Oh? Slit lips, cut off—” Maggie bit her lip.

Kered touched her arm, briefly, gently. “Your master will
decide your punishment.” Then he leaned back, withdrew as if he had overstepped
some boundary. “Now, the weapon?”

Maggie could see he needed an explanation. But before she
gave it, he stood up, banging his head and swearing a string of strange words,
then picked up the gun and pressed a button.

A large hole appeared in the wooden table. The edges smoked.

“Nilrem’s beard!” Kered turned to her in astonishment.
“Beyond the ice fields? Am I correct? You came through the ice fields!”

Maggie stalled. “Do they have weird weapons over there?” She
massaged her temples. How could she get the gun away from him before he made
Swiss cheese of the cabin?

“I have no true knowledge of the people beyond the ice
fields, but legend has it they exist and have much to offer.” He peered about
the hut as if looking for toys on Christmas morning, searching for expendable
objects to shoot.

“Then that’s where I’m from.” Maggie closed her eyes. Better
an ice field than telling him he didn’t exist, was part of a virtual reality
game—
a virtual reality nightmare.

He smoked a hole through a water bucket, sending a stream of
steaming water rolling toward the hearth. Maggie jumped off the bed, regretting
it instantly as she swayed on her feet. Just before he created a new window in
the hut, she grabbed his wrist.

“You’re wasting it.”

That stopped him. He accepted the comment with ill grace,
his brows drawing together over his perfect, straight nose.

“Let me have it,” Maggie cajoled. She had to get the weapon
away from him.

Kered shoved the gun into a leather pack by the door then
stomped back to her, his boots raising a small cloud of dust. “Slaves do not
bear weapons.”

Slave
. She had to go home.
Now
. Before he
began to play master. If she could distract him, perhaps she could make a break
for it. Perhaps outside she’d find some answers.

Without thinking, Maggie reached across the small distance
that separated them and touched the sleeve covering his upper arm. The
atmosphere became charged. His biceps jumped taut at her light caress.

Arm rings—under the cloth. Her fingertips explored. Three.

“You’re a warrior, aren’t you?” Maggie held on tightly.

Warriors meant war.

She felt a little faint and it had nothing to do with the
blow to her head. Perhaps going outside was foolish. Maybe if she went to
sleep, she’d wake from this nightmare in Ocean City, New Jersey, with Gwen
hovering somewhere nearby.

Just as she slipped to the floor, he caught her. His arms
locked about her waist, drawing her body against his. Her eyelids fluttered as
her eyes rolled up into her head.

“Dancing?” Nilrem cackled as he opened the hut door.

Kered growled. He should lay the slave down. He should. When
he placed her in the furs, he straightened her skirt, lingering over her
delicate bones, stroking them with his fingertips and overlapping her ankle. He
picked up his fur-lined cloak and tucked it about her shoulders. Unbidden, his
hand caressed her downy cheek.

Nilrem stomped about his hut, then stuck his staff into the
hole in his table. “My son, you leaned here, did you not? You broke my bucket!”
Nilrem whined and whimpered over the now useless container.

“Halt!” Kered retrieved the gun from his pack. “‘Tis this
curious weapon that did it!”

“She used a weapon on you?” Nilrem peered around Kered to
where Maggie lay sleeping.

“Hmpf. Women do not use weapons on me.”

“Ah, ’tis true. Women beg you to use your weapon on them!”
Nilrem slapped his knees and bent double with his chortling, then he sobered.
“Let us see this weapon.”

Nilrem’s gnarled fingers examined the gun as closely as he
had examined Maggie’s body. He missed nothing. “What do you make of it?”

“The slave says she is from beyond the ice fields. The
weapon is probably her master’s. It makes holes in wood!”

“Ah, think of the possibilities,” Nilrem gloated.

Kered snatched the gun before Nilrem could touch the blue or
red button. “I have thought of the possibilities. They frighten me.”

Kered and Nilrem stared at each other.

Nilrem spoke. “Your responsibilities weigh heavily?”
Suddenly his demeanor changed. A subtle metamorphosis took place. His back grew
straighter, his voice less rusty. “Tell me.” Nilrem reached across the space
and placed a hand on Kered’s knee.

“The time has come for peace,” Kered said in the silence,
turning the gun end over end.

Nilrem merely nodded.

“Tolemac has been fighting the folk of Selaw long enough to
know they raid out of starvation. It is time we aided them, instead of
slaughtering them!” Kered rose and paced, head bent to avoid the low rafters.
“My father will not last much longer. Peace must be made before his death, for
we all know ‘tis only his hand that stays a massacre. There are few on the
council who would respect any peace offer from the Selaw once he is gone. They
need grain. We waste in one harvest more oats than their entire tribe could use
in a year! For what reason do we make war?”

“Ah, my son, you truly have earned the right to a seat on
the council. Were you Leoh’s true son, you would sit there already.” Nilrem
glowed as if he alone had raised Kered and not Leoh, Kered’s adoptive father
and the leader of the council.

“Seat on the council? Hah! If I cannot hold one border
against starving men, what chance have I to earn the right to a council seat?”
Kered struck his fist into his palm.

“Starving children make fierce warriors of their fathers.”
Nilrem sought to pacify Kered.

Their voices roused Maggie. For some moments she lay there
disoriented, frightened. Then sense returned. She remembered. Grief cut deeply.
Cyberspace, Gwen had said. Maggie faced the fact that somehow she had been
transported to somewhere in cyberspace. A nonexistent thing or place—just
gobbledygook from technogeeks. Until today, until this moment.

The scent of the two men seeped into her nostrils, mixing
with the wood smoke that stung her eyes. She narrowed them to slits and
breathed shallowly. The men’s voices hypnotized her into a dreamy state until
she heard the word war. Her ears pricked; she was jolted out of her stupor.

Tolemac Wars
. Wars meant fighting, death, and
annihilation. Maggie shivered. There must be some way out of this
nightmare—some way to end the game.

She poked her nose deep into the fur, then realized why the
men’s scent was so strong. She lay beneath a heavy fur cloak. It needed a good
dry cleaning. Even a thrift store wouldn’t take it in its present condition.

“What brings you here, son?’’ Nilrem sipped from a goblet of
water. Maggie’s throat scratched, but asking for a drink would alert them to
her wakefulness.

“I come to seek your wisdom. By all that is holy or wise,
there must be some answer.”

“Lifemating?” Nilrem suggested.

Kered slumped onto the stool. It groaned dangerously beneath
his weight. “Another failure. The fair Einalem rejected my proposal after Leoh
spent weeks negotiating the lifemating contracts. With Einalem’s wealth, I
could have accomplished much. Yet she turned her hand palm down.”

“By the heavens, why? You have known each other since childhood,
not to mention that you are a legend from the ice fields to the Scorched
Plain!”

“It seems my ‘legendary’ ways did not meet with her
approval. The stink of blood is too strong upon my hands, she said. I am too
much a man of war.”

“And pleasure!” Nilrem said with jestful tones. “Hold your
ire. I know you have little of pleasure in your life. So, she rejected you…
‘Tis more like her father found something amiss in the distribution of wealth
or power and used her option of rejection to slip out of the agreement.”

“Leoh said as much, yet the end remains the same! The Selaw
border is breached in two places, and I am rejected before the council. After
this humiliation, what hope have I of forging a treaty or negotiating peace?”

Nilrem and Kered sat silently by the fire. Occasionally,
Nilrem sipped from his cup, slurping the water and dribbling it down his beard.
“My son, your father is a wise and noble leader, but old and sickly. It is time
for younger heads to rule. I have watched you for many years—always you temper
your words and think of others. Even as a boy you offered words first and
weapons second. The council needs you. Samoht craves your father’s power. He
wants ice for Tolemac and the Selaw stand in the way. He will decimate them
when Leoh dies. It is time.”

“Time for what?” Kered rested his chin on a fist. Maggie
peeked at the men from beneath her eyelashes. Kered looked discouraged and
depressed, Nilrem younger and more vigorous.

“Time to make the quest. You
must
make the quest.”

“‘Tis legend, a tale for children.” Kered swept a hand out
in dismissal.

“You bear the sign. ‘Tis why Leoh adopted you. Do you deny
it?”

Kered shook his head. “I bear what
Leoh and you
consider a sign. I prefer to think ‘tis just a blemish, nothing more.”

“I only ask you to hear my words,” Nilrem said with a quiet
urgency.

Kered nodded, but his face arranged itself in impatient
lines, deep grooves forming about his mouth, and Maggie thought he had aged in
the last few moments.

“You have come to seek wisdom. Now you must let go of your
doubts and accept what you hear.” Nilrem tapped a gnarled finger on Kered’s
chest. “There are few symbols so sacred as the one you bear. Surely, this
entitles you to the legendary sword of your ancestor, the esteemed Ruhtra. If
you retrieve the sword and bear it as your own weapon at the council conclave,
you would earn another arm ring.”

Kered straightened on his stool. “Four arm rings will not
gain me a seat on the council.”

“A second arm ring can be earned by journeying to the
Forbidden Isle of N’Olava and bringing back the sacred cup of Liarg. Both the
sword and the cup are symbols of peace, not just to Tolemac, but to every
neighboring chiefdom. If you can secure the two symbols and attain the status
of five arm rings, your acceptance to the council is guaranteed and your peace
proposals sure to be taken seriously by each councilor. Even Samoht and his
cohorts will be forced to bow to your power.”

A stiff silence reined. Maggie watched Kered ball his fists
on his knees before he spoke. “And if this be just the stuff of legends or the
ramblings of an old man?”

“You wound me, son. Only the one who bears the sign will
successfully make the quest—gain the sword and cup. Is peace not worthy of the
effort to seek the truth of the ancient legends?” Nilrem rose. He brought the
goblet of water to Maggie’s bedside. “I know you listen, child. Drink.” He
helped Maggie to a sitting position; she sipped with guilty pleasure.

Kered spoke as if she were not present, as if no
interruption had occurred. “I offer my humblest apology. I meant no insult.”

“I know.” Nilrem nodded. “You walked here. You abased
yourself for wisdom. It is admirable. That is why I will help you. Samoht, too,
has been to my mountain and will soon return.”

“No!” Kered smote the table with a fist and Maggie jumped,
spilling water on the cloak.

Nilrem slapped at the drops. “Samoht, too, seeks a way—a way
to eliminate every man, woman, and child of the Selaw who stand between him and
the ice. You must not delay. The council will elect Samoht in Leoh’s place,
should he die. If you are on the council, Samoht’s every decision will be
tempered by your wisdom and compassion. If you are not, blood will stain the
earth.”